


something to sleep to

by finkpishnets



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Coda, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:19:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: Will knows it's too much, too soon, but it’s already taken shape in the space between his lungs and he’s not sure he’d want to fight it even if he could.





	something to sleep to

**Author's Note:**

> a hastily written post-episode coda for 2/20/2018.
> 
> (unrelated note: i'm pretty sure i've used this michelle branch song title before, many years ago, for _twilight_ fic of all things. what we should all learn from this is that i have no fandom shame and i will pretty much write _anything._ )

 

 

Will stays with Marlena until she gets the all-clear from John, a frantic phone call that leaves her shoulders falling in relief, and Will letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was still holding. He drinks two more cups of bitter waiting room coffee, says his goodbyes to Kayla, and slips out with a promise to call Marlena in the morning, once he’s managed some much needed sleep.

Salem still feels new and strange and familiar, and he takes the long walk home, trying to wrap his head around the events of the last few days; poison and guns and the flash of horror on Paul’s face when he’d thought, just for a moment, that maybe his dad really was the bad guy this time. It’s _ridiculous_ , the kind of thing that only happens in crappy detective novels and daytime TV, but Will has the rope burns to remind him that apparently this is his life now.

He’s half tempted to jump on the next bus back to Memphis; at least there crazy had made a certain kind of sense.

As soon as his door shuts behind him, he strips down and stands in the shower until the smell of mausoleum and fear don’t cling to him like a second skin.

He’s just slipped into a pair of pyjama pants and a clean t-shirt when he hears footsteps in the hall, hesitating outside his door, and he’s pulled it open before it even occurs to him it might not be the person he’s hoping for.

“Hi,” Paul says, and he looks tired and drained but unscathed. Will feels the last twist of worry under his ribs unwind.

“Hey,” he says. “Everything okay?”

Paul nods, leaning against the doorpost. “Yeah,” he says. “Everyone’s safe, anyway. It was touch and go there for a moment, but Tripp and Ciara were fantastic.”

“Good,” Will says. He rubs the hem of his shirt between his thumb and forefinger, eyes fixed somewhere near Paul’s right ear, and they stand there for a long moment before Will lets the honesty that’s been his armor fight past his lips. “Look, I’m not trying to push, and I’m honestly trying to let you set the pace for, you know, _whatever_ , but I just— I don’t really wanna be alone right now? Would you, maybe—?”

“Yes,” Paul says without pause, and Will’s shoulders drop another couple of inches. “Just let me go get cleaned up, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Will says, feet shuffling on the carpet, and eyes finally able to meet Paul’s. “Yeah, okay, great.”

He wasn’t really expecting Paul to agree, and now the butterflies in his stomach do an uncomfortable dance as he throws his laundry in the basket and tugs the bedsheets free, wondering is he’s always been a masochist or if this is a shiny, new addendum. He sits on the edge of his mattress and checks his emails three times before Paul comes back, hair still damp and smelling of shower gel. He’s wearing a tank top, and Will’s seriously wondering if he should just ask Paul to permanently put his biceps away for the sake of Will’s steadily declining, non-amnesia related mental health. It’s _unfair_ , and Will’s pretty sure Paul’s just oblivious and not a total tease, but everyone has their limits.

They avoid each other’s gaze as they slip into bed, dancing around each other when they both go for the same side before Paul huffs out a laugh and steps back, turning out the lamp. It’s strange, sharing a bed with someone in a way that doesn’t immediately involve reaching for his clothes and slipping out the door, and Will’s pretty sure he should be more freaked out about it than he is.

Or maybe not.

Ever since he cornered Paul in his room and asked him questions far too personal just to watch the blush light up his cheeks, Paul’s made him feel calm. Fond and nervous and happy and turned on, _sure_ , but above all else, he’s helped Will stay sane, said the right things at the right time and been _present_ in a way that’s made the nonsense that is Will’s life not seem so overwhelming. 

He makes him feel _safe_. Not in the settled way, but in the way that promises _‘at the end of the day’_ , and _‘no matter what’_ , and Will knows that’s too much, too soon, but it’s already taken shape in the space between his lungs and he’s not sure he’d want to fight it even if he could.

He wonders what Paul would say if he spilled all this between them, resting the words on adjacent pillows and leaving it in Paul’s hands. 

“How’re you doing?” Paul asks, words little more than a whisper, and Will smiles.

“This town is _insane_ ,” he says, “but I’m holding up so far.”

“Yeah?” Paul says, and Will hopes he’s not imagining the way Paul’s knees slide just a little closer beneath the sheets.

“Yeah,” he says. Paul’s eyes are soft and tired, his mouth a gentle curve as he blinks back sleep, and Will’s never learned how to be careful. “Besides, it has its charms.” 

Paul’s lips twitch, and Will captures it to memory and holds it close, just in case.

“Go to sleep,” Will says instead of everything else that he’s too tired to form into coherent words. The thank you’s and the fears and the rehashing of events over and over until they start making something even a little like sense. The well of emotion that threatens to spill out every time Paul looks at him the way he’s looking at him now.

“Let’s go for breakfast tomorrow,” Paul says, eyes already drifting closed. “Do something normal.”

“Sure,” Will says, smile threatening to overwhelm him. He tucks his hands under his pillow and memorizes the sweep of Paul’s eyelashes against his cheek. “It’s a date.”

“S’a date,” Paul echoes, voice low and barely there, breathing already evening out.

Will won’t hold him to it come morning, but for tonight?

It’s something to sleep to.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr.](http://madroxed.tumblr.com/)


End file.
